


Halcyon

by solas_oiche



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: But only kind of I mean it's a oneshot, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, Non-Canon Relationship, OCs for Plot Only, One Shot, Post-Canon Timeline, Rated T for Sexual Themes, Slow Burn, University age, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solas_oiche/pseuds/solas_oiche
Summary: "You love her." It wasn't a question. TakaHaru. Oneshot. Complete.





	Halcyon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, solas here with a spontaneous pile of Mori x Haruhi spooge for you. I kid you not, this vomited out of my head all at once and is barely proofed and unbeta-ed, so don’t expect a gloriously organized and clearly written story. I was just havin’ the feels and elected to write. Also, it’s inspired by songs. Oh no, I’m a fanfic SINNER, writing a bloody songfic. #Shame
> 
> I’m by no means a writer, and I’m probably trash at characterization, but I tried to depict a more serious tone than that of the manga/anime. The concept is based on my own experiences (with what? I’ll let you guess) and tries to capture the idea of Mori and Haruhi being quietly in love– but go ahead and read it and let me know what you think.
> 
> Writing structure and feels inspired by FFnet Okobo-chan’s “Safe” (a TakaHaru must-read, btw!), all OCs are merely side characters for plot.
> 
> Songs are “wildfire” by Jeremy Tucker and “Only” by RY X, both lovely songs I think you should definitely play while reading.

* * *

_Though I’ve been a mess since you met me_

_No, it’s never felt this empty_

 

            He had run out of time.

            Here they all were, standing in front of Haruhi’s front door, bidding her goodnight after her farewell party. Her flight to the USA left in 16 hours, where she would be residing for the next year studying criminal law at the finest school the grandiose, faraway country had to offer. He would be staying behind.

            He had just finished his own Bachelor’s degree, and was required by his family to undertake a yearlong sabbatical from higher education to learn the behind-the-scenes of his family’s businesses before pursuing any further academic interests. _Business can wait, can it not?_ He sighed. No, it could not.

            None of them could go with her. Tamaki and the twins were still completing their undergraduate courses in business and fashion design, respectively. Kyoya, always efficient, has completed his degree in half the time of the rest of the group – he was still locked in his fight to take over the Ootori Corporation with his brothers and father, and little else occupied his mind these days. Mitsukuni had recently decided to try his hand at culinary school, and was doing splendidly well when he wasn’t being chastised for consuming the confectionaries he was supposed to be completing and decorating. Takashi smiled inwardly as he watched Mitsukuni tearfully hug Haruhi and blubber his anguish over her upcoming absence; the small man, although the oldest of their circle, would always be the youngest soul he knew.

            The twins had already said goodbye and departed. Kyoya had briefly entertained their company at dinner, but had dined and dashed, pausing briefly to ruffle Haruhi’s lengthening hair and tell her that _your debt is still a reasonable amount, but I will place it on hold until you return_ which had garnered him Haruhi’s iconic _senpai-are-you-serious_ staredown. Kyoya, however, had merely laughed and departed, leaving a cool breeze and a quiet deflation from the table as the realization that time was up simultaneously occurred to all the minds in the room. 

            For Takashi, that realization had occurred long before, and after weeks of thinking about it, he still had not settled on how to properly say goodbye.

* * *

  _I was a ghost_

_Halted in flight_

_Kneeling_

            She had run out of time. 

            Of course, it was shortened time of her own making; she had chosen to leave the country to further her education and knew, no matter how painful, that it was the right decision.

            For two years, the Host Club had been the illustrious original crew, and her life had been one mildly enjoyable tailspin after another. Mori-senpai and Hani-senpai had graduated two years after she had first arrived; to her surprise she had found herself resisting tears watching the two cross the stage in their outrageously expensive graduation gowns. Over the years, she had grown immensely fond of the two now ex-hosts, particularly Mori-senpai.

            In typical Haruhi nature, she craved peace and quiet, and the only solace she had ever found in the third Music Room had been Mori-senpai. Where Tamaki-senpai was loud and dramatic, Mori-senpai was quiet and relaxing, his presence an island in a sea of chaos. At some point, she surmised, she had crossed the line between platonic affection and romantic love. It had happened slowly, quietly, nurtured by moments as subtle as the man himself. She had fallen for him, fallen into the safety that he was, and now she was leaving before ever breathing a word of her agonizing truth.

            She had realized last week that she had feelings, so many feelings for him, and she had no idea how to convey them. And now, tonight, the night before she left, she still had no idea what to say.

            And now, here they were, standing a meter apart, silent.

_How did it come to be like this?_

* * *

 

_I was only falling in love_

 

            Early on in her second year, Hani-senpai had gotten ill and stayed home for a week, and Mori-senpai had come to Host Club alone, the “wild type” looking vaguely ill himself. _He’s probably cringing at the thought of dealing with fangirls alone_ , Haruhi had thought to herself while examining his posture, but upon reaching his eyes she discovered he was watching her just as intently. She blushed furiously, mortified at having been caught eyeballing the senior, and whirled away to begin tea prep for that day’s customers. She’d fled into the prep room, collecting the tea leaves that likely cost more than her monthly grocery bill, when she’d realized.

_He smiled at me._

            Of course, Mori-senpai’s idea of a smile was merely a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it had been there, and she had seen it, and he had smiled _at her._ Her hands had stilled on the tea tray, and she had stood stunned by the revelation that he had smiled, and more importantly, it was a smile for her. She’d blushed all over again, then internally chastised herself for being silly over someone who was merely a friend. At that point, she had noticed a large hand had appeared next to her, holding the teapot she hadn’t reached for yet. Her heart rate had skyrocketed, how had he gotten there?

            “A-ah, thank you senpai, I-I didn’t realize you were there!” she had stuttered, embarrassed at being caught twice in ten minutes being foolish. What was wrong with her today?

            “Ah.”

            “Senpai, you don’t look particularly well, are you alright?” she’d inquired. He’d shrugged, a near-imperceptible shift of his broad shoulders. “Are you not happy that you have to host without Hani-senpai?” she had pressed. He nodded.

             She couldn’t stop herself. “Senpai, you could host with me if…if you’d like…” she had finished lamely.

_What the hell, Haruhi? Mori-senpai isn’t a charity case, he’ll be offended you even asked that! You have your own clients to host!_

             “I’d like that.”

             She had looked over to see another one of Mori-senpai’s beautiful smiles, and responded with a smile of her own.

* * *

  _I had it all_

_You had my heart_

_We fell in love_

_Then it fell apart_

 

            The twins had departed, Kyoya was gone, and Tamaki had been unwillingly…removed by Mitsukuni, who gave Takashi a _come-on Takashi, it’s now or never_ look (how did he know? Takashi wondered) before dragging a crying Tamaki away from the stunned Haruhi. She turned to see him standing there, hands in pockets, eyes turned down in the shadows of the evening. They both looked at each other’s feet, trapped in a silence only punctuated by faint whispers of wind through the trees.

             “Mori-senpai, I—“

             “Takashi.”

             She looked up. “Senpai…?”

             He took a deep breath.

             “Call me Takashi.”

            She knew he allowed no one save Hani-senpai the intimacy of his first name. She felt her eyes suddenly burn with desperately restrained tears. “Ta-Takashi-senpai, it’s getting late. I don’t want to keep you out in the dark.”

             Takashi stepped forward, reached out, took her hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles, trying to convey what he meant without words, praying she’d understand, _willing_ her to know just what it was he felt for her. 

            Haruhi watched his lips touch her hand, felt them tremble. Her other hand went to press over her own mouth as the lump in her throat grew to choke her. _Reality is here._ The tears spilled over, and Takashi pulled her into his arms as she cried. 

* * *

_There of the heart_

_God undertow_

_Feeling_

 

            After they had graduated, the pair had returned to visit weekly, and Haruhi began to cherish those visiting days most of all, simply because it meant there was someone to protect her from the endless onslaught of Tamaki’s tearful _my precious daughter_ monologues and the twin’s incessant fashion-oriented teasing. On rare occasion, Hani-senpai had called on a weekend and insisted she _join them for lunch, our treat, we can have cake together!_ To her mild surprise, she thoroughly enjoyed those outings with just the pair. Hani-senpai and Mori-senpai were relatively calm company; Hani-senpai toned down the Lolita-esque dramatics outside the Host Club (to her eternal gratitude), and Mori-senpai’s very presence made her day better.

             After a few trips, she even stopped trying to politely say no.

             Those lunch dates had continued, becoming a bimonthly tradition throughout her remaining high school years until one day Hani-senpai had called minutes before picking her up and told her he _had gotten sick, but Mori-senpai would still get her_ and before she could politely offer to reschedule, there had been a knock at her door. Unable to refuse, she had accompanied him out and found to her delight that he alone was wonderful company, talking just a little bit more than usual. She found that alone, he provided wildly insightful commentary and showed an impressive understanding of her favorite topic, criminal law. The day had thrilled her, and when he appeared, alone, a month later, she had accepted again. _The rest of the group likely had no idea,_ she’d mused to herself, _except maybe Hani-senpai._

             But…they were just friendly outings, were they not? She had supposed he was trying to be more social at Hani-senpai’s insistence. Then again, occasionally he gave her this _look_ , stormy eyes through heavy lashes that pulled somewhere in her very core and sent fire spiraling through her belly, and she wondered what he thought all over again.

            It was one of those lunches where she told him, the first of any of the Host Club, that she’d been accepted for a year abroad, and for a flash, she read nothing but devastation and agony in his eyes. Then the moment was gone, and she wondered for a moment if it had even been real. Then he’d congratulated her, quietly, deep baritone just a little too smooth for her to think there had been any pain behind it. 

* * *

_I’m sick of deciding_

_How it burns inside of me_

_Just let me breathe_

            Once her tears subsided, Haruhi stepped back, assessing the damage she’d done to Takashi’s coat.

            “Takashi-senpai, I’ve ruined your coat, I’m so sorry—“

            “Don’t.”

            He reached out again, took both hands, and knelt in front of her. With her tiny stature, he was only just slightly below her head on his knees. He looked at her intensely, willing his feelings into her soul.

            “Haruhi.”

            “Yes, senpai?”

            “I will wait for you.”

            Haruhi froze, cheeks reddening in surprise, as she released a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. She gave him a teary smile.

            “A year is a long time, Takashi-senpai.”

            “Just Takashi.” Here he paused for a moment. “It’s only a year.”

            “Are…you sure?"

            “Haruhi.” He looked at her, his unspoken sincerity settling around her. “Write to me. I’ll miss you.”

            “I…I’ll miss you too.”

* * *

_Had the treelines shine in the night sky_

_‘Till it all burned down in a wildfire_

            There were no more lunch dates, no more quiet smiles, and most of all, no more safe presence.  Adapting to the United States was not easy for Haruhi, but she kept busy with her studies and her newfound friends.

            Three days after settling in, she sat in front of her laptop (a gift from the Host Club, with Tamaki’s insistence that _this way you can email me every day!_ ), watching the drab grey weather outside of the small coffee shop on the ground floor of the skyscraper she called her apartment building. She was intending to start reviewing the cases listed in her course syllabus handed out that day, but the weather and culture shock had sent her motivation far away, and she had merely succeeded in opening a web browser before giving up on trying to do work.

            She navigated to her email address and, to her surprise, amidst the dozens of emails from Tamaki and the twins, she found an email in her inbox from Takashi-senpai, dated eight hours previously.

 

\-----

**From: morinozuka.takashi@yahoo.co.jp**

**To: haruhifujioka2@outlook.jp**

**Subject Line:** n/a

**Message:**

Hope you are well.

Takashi

\-----

 

            She was embarrassed at how bright her own smile was. She clicked reply, and raced to write a response that she needed to completely retype due to her own jerky, frantic fingers.

 

\-----

**From: haruhifujioka2@outlook.jp**

**To: morinozuka.takashi@yahoo.co.jp**

**Subject Line:** Hello Takashi-senpai!

**Message:**

Thank you Takashi-senpai!

I am well. America is lovely, although the weather is pitiful. I started law classes here today. The accents are hard to keep up with. How are you?

Haruhi

\-----

 

            Although awkward and uncomfortable at first, she and Takashi began emailing back and forth often. Emailing progressed into calling, and she loved how Takashi-senpai tried so hard to hold verbal conversations with her on the phone. She talked about her subjects, the weather, the stock market, anything and everything she could just to keep him on the phone longer. Saying goodbye hurt all over again each time she hung up the phone, but she persisted for the joy she felt hearing the phone ring a few days later. For the first time in her life, he cell phone stayed on, and on ring, constantly.

            Their contact even progressed into videochatting. One late night she received an email stating _I’ll call you at dinnertime so we can eat together._ She prepped dinner in her tiny university studio apartment and waited for him to call. He did, and they proceeded to show each other their respective meals and eat together across the world, her dinner, him breakfast. She’d smiled every time she thought about it for a straight week. Her newfound friends had told her _you are acting like a lovesick puppy_ and insisted she explain herself, but she just smiled at them, electing to keep Takashi’s existence private. She was almost afraid speaking about it would jinx it and sever the connection they had made across the world. She hadn’t even told Ranka-san, although she knew he somehow knew there was some spark of romance in her life. It’s like the man had a radar for it. He had teased her about it just recently, but she refused to divulge Takashi-senpai’s name for fear that her eccentric father would stalk the man for information.

             She knew she had long months left until she saw him again, but she found their online communication was only strengthening the love she had for him. She hadn’t said the words yet, but she knew in the heart, in her soul, that no one else on Earth would bring her the exact kind of happiness that Takashi Morinozuka could with a simple phone call. 

* * *

_Cut me like a rose_

Takashi made her heart feel warm and light, but Haruhi discovered there was a horrible darkness to distance, one that made the otherwise peaceful silence in her room at night painfully oppressive. In those quiet, lonely moments, she’d daydream of Takashi kissing her knuckles, holding her hand, quietly supporting her. Typically, the end result of that train of thought was feeling so empty she’d wonder how she even survived in the past with such a gaping hole in her heart. Then the tears would fall, and she’d wonder how she would make it through the rest of her time away without losing her sanity.           

            Although rarer, her hormones sometimes took over and controlled her, and she’d find herself thinking of broad shoulders and calloused hands and how wholly _large_ Takashi was, and how much it appealed to her. Then she’d smack herself for her impropriety, and spend the night desperately trying to ignore the ache in her heart.

* * *

_Turn me like a beast_

 

            Sometimes, Takashi would jolt awake at night, covered with sweat, breath heaving from strained lungs. He’d pace to his bathroom, wipe the sweat from his fevered neck, and hunch over the bathroom sink, cursing his mind and traitorous body.

            The rest of those nights, he’d pace, unable to sleep, because every time he closed his eyes, he’d see himself kissing her, holding her hand, pressing her into his mattress, making her breathless. And he’d lose breath himself, and he’d once again count the minutes left until she returned.

            On his worst nights, Takashi would quietly make his way to his family’s shrine in their large central garden. There, obscured by trees, water, and wind, he’d pray.

* * *

_Hold you to the floor_

 

            Haruhi found the hardest times of being apart were when she was standing in a crowd. Always an introvert, she found herself searching for his presence while surrounded by dancing, _yelling_ Americans in a downtown sports bar. She discovered that she needed his peace when the city became too much, when she was lost in throngs of tourists who hollered in dozens of languages. One day, after getting disastrously lost looking for a monument she’d learned about in a lecture, she’d seen someone who looked so much like Takashi from the back she’d nearly cried his name. Then the stranger turned, and the realization that _he’s not here_ slammed against her with the force of a tsunami. She had stumbled, then spun and ran, and ran, panting and sweating and burning eyes, until she reached her own tiny studio and slammed the door shut. Then she’d leaned against it, _hard,_ and slid to the floor, sobbing. She needed Takashi, now.

           Sometimes, it all just felt like it was too much.

* * *

_Heavy like the force between us_

 

            At one point, after Haruhi had been gone about eight months, Mitsukuni walked into his best friend’s room to find him…talking. Takashi, who was facing the giant glass windows into the central garden of his home, did not hear or see him come in, so Mitsukuni decided to stay quietly in the corner and observe his uncharacteristically animated cousin’s deep voice fill the room. He was talking to someone about the Morinozuka business structure, explaining the legal side to their contract operations. Mitsukuni heard him pause, shift from one hip to the other, and then…laugh. Mitsukuni watched Takashi turned his head enough that Mitsukuni could see his profile, and he saw the faintest blush coupled with a small smile.

            At that point, Mitsukuni smiled, knowing exactly who his cousin was talking to, and slunk out of the room before he was noticed. He had things to discuss with his larger compatriot later.

* * *

_Coming from the cold_

_Buried under heat_

 

            Around ten months into her year abroad, Haruhi had agreed to go to a local bar with some of her more sociable classmates. The mismatched group she had fallen into consisted of four Americans, two Europeans and a Chinese girl who Haruhi lived next door to in her skyscraper. The group had agreed to go out to celebrate the end of a particularly difficult moot court that Friday, and two of the Americans, Madison and Caroline, had ordered her to come out, suspiciously giggling about something. Haruhi had an odd flashback to the twins’ forcing her into Italian fashions as the two girls dragged her to a vanity and began applying makeup with a Spotify Top50 playlist blaring in the background.

            “Haruhi, we’re going to make you extra cute today!!” she heard from somewhere behind her. “Today’s going to be special!”

            “Is there something I’m missing?” Haruhi inquired absentmindedly, re-reading Takashi’s latest email from the day previous. She hadn’t spoken at length about him to anyone, given the rather odd circumstances surrounding their…could it be called a relationship? Whatever it was, it wasn’t official, and she hadn’t confessed her feelings, so she couldn’t be sure.

            “Haruhi, Lucas has something to tell you, but we don’t want to spoil it!” giggled Madison, who was now curling Haruhi’s much-longer hair. Haruhi paused. Lucas, a Dutch boy in her friend group, had been awkward around her for a few weeks now. Oddly reminiscent of some of her former hosting clients, he had begun blushing and stuttering at her whenever she paid him any sort of compliment to his work. Haruhi had been so preoccupied with Takashi’s recent kendo tournament updates that she hadn’t thought about it, but _oh no, please let this not be a planned confession,_ she griped inwardly to herself.

            “Madison…is Lucas going to confess his interest in me tonight?”

            “…Haruhi, how did you know?”

            She blanched. “I’m not as oblivious as people seem to think when it comes to these matters.”

            “Well, are you going to say yes to him? He’s very cute and smart and…Caroline, what do you think?” Madison spoke distractedly while applying her own makeup. Caroline flushed a dull red, it was no secret she was interested in the boy in question. Haruhi suddenly hated the situation.

            “You two…I have not told you, but there’s…someone…at home…” Haruhi trailed off as the two girls turned deer-in-headlights eyes on her. The music reached the end of the playlist and trailed off into a silence that, to Haruhi, was incomparable to the comfortable quiet of Takashi. She suddenly felt her heart ache for him, a common occurrence, but painful all the same.

            “Well, shit. Should we tell Lucas?” Madison pressed. Caroline was still stunned, although you could see the relief in her eyes. “I mean, we don’t want him to be publicly embarrassed.”

            “I’ll talk to him privately.” Haruhi replied, anticipating the next question. Madison launched herself onto the bed with a loud creak of bedsprings and proceeded to turn a megawatt smile towards her tiny Japanese companion.

            “So…who is this boy!?!” she cried. Caroline joined in, and the two began chanting _tell us tell us tell us_ until Haruhi finally acquiesced to their demands. Blushing, she began.

            “His name is Takashi…”

* * *

_I had it all_

_You had my heart_

_We fell in love_

 

            “Ne, ne, Takashi, come have cake with me!" 

            Takashi stopped reading the book he was holding and looked up to decline only to see Mitsukuni standing over him with a _you are going to do as I say_ expression that gave him a strange urge to shiver. He bookmarked the page he was on and stood up, towering over the smaller blonde man who proceeded to drag him to a swinging bench in the garden facing a koi pond. After a quick sweep of the area to make sure no one was around, Mitsukuni turned to Takashi and said, “Takashi, I saw you talking on the phone to Haru-chan the other day.” 

            Takashi remained quiet. He hadn’t spoken at length to anyone about how frequently they communicated, he felt as though his pseudorelationship with Haruhi was a secret he needed to protect from the world, lest he break the spell and ruin it before it truly began. It felt off, concealing such a significant part of his life from his cousin, but some part of him had demanded he keep her all to himself. Such was the way of a protector, but a bit excessive, he thought to himself.

            “Takashi, I’m not going to judge you, I’m just pointing out I saw you. Are you two a couple? Tama-chan and Hika-chan aren’t going to be happy you’re talking to her without sharing that with us. They were wailing about her lack of communication last week at lunch!” Takashi felt a small burst of pride, he remembered that moment at a Host Club reunion lunch (melodramatically titled by the princely type) when Tamaki had bemoaned Haruhi’s lack of emails. Apparently, she only replied once or twice a month to everyone else save him.

            “It’s…complicated.”

             “Takashi, how do you feel about her?” pressed the small blonde.

             “…” Takashi didn’t know how to put it into words. He missed her with every heartbeat. He looked at happy couples on the street and imagined holding her hand. He picked up a book and thought of how intensely she studied, the wrinkle in her forehead that only appeared when she was puzzling through a case in her textbooks. How could he explain that he’s waiting, counting down the seconds until his life can begin again? How does he tell someone that half of his soul flew across the world and he’s merely been existing, a living, breathing, shell of a person since? For a moment, he remembered every moment after hanging up the phone, the oppressive silence that clung to his skin, and Takashi felt like he could not get enough air to speak.

            “Takashi?” He heard the word as though from a long distance away. With a tremendous effort borne of a lifetime of discipline, he refocused.

            “Mistukuni.” He looked at his smaller companion, and willed Mitsukuni to understand.

            “You love her.” It wasn’t a question.

            “Ah.”

             “Since when?”

            “Always.” Of course, he didn’t always know her, but from the moment he did, he was gone, the mused. Sometime between the _yes Tamaki, I am in fact a girl_ and _senpai you can host with me if you want_ and the _you like strawberries, right?_ and dancing with her at the ball and the lunch dates and now, he had fallen completely and irrevocably in love with her. Despite the odd position they found themselves in, he knew every second he waited was nothing in comparison to what he wanted for them in the future.

            There was a long pause as the two mismatched boys processed all the information.

            “Ne, Takashi, you’ll have to tell Tama-chan and Hika-chan that you two are a couple, or they’ll be all over her when she gets back!” Mitsukuni must have it was time to distract the taller boy, he thought. Takashi wasn’t having it.

            “Mitsukuni.”

            “Yes?”

            “Some time after she returns, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

* * *

_I was only falling in love_

_I was only falling in love_

 

            After 386 days in the United States, Haruhi found herself standing in her studio apartment now devoid of furnishings and life, empty, as though she’d never been there. She herself stood, suitcase and carry-on at her side, in the centre of the blank space. Almost all her friends had all returned to their respective homes for the holiday, and her time at this university was up. It was time for her to return home. She pulled out her cellphone (luckily, Wi-Fi was still accessible), found Takashi’s number, and pressed _call._ It was a bit early, but he hadn’t failed to answer a call yet.

            The call crackled to life. “Haruhi.”

            “Good evening, Takashi!” Haruhi felt her heart seize up in excitement at his voice saying her name. Would she ever calm down? She doubted it.

            “How are you?” His deep rumble brought her focus back.

            “I’m good, I’m finished packing. My flight leaves in six hours, which is why I called. You’ll probably be asleep by the time I board.”

            “You are most likely correct.” They both laughed quietly together for a moment. He continued on. “When do you arrive back in Japan?”

            “It’s 10:00pm at home, yes? I’ll land at 8:40am the day after tomorrow.”

            “May I have the honor of meeting you there?” He asked quietly.

            Haruhi’s heart leapt. “Yes, of course.”

            “Thank you.” He replied simply.

            “Ah…you’re welcome, Takashi. I’ll be at the arrival section of the international terminal. Shall I see you there?”

            “Aah.”

            “I’m excited to see you.” She confessed, blurting it out suddenly. How unlike her, but something, as always, compelled her to keep talking in his presence.

            “And I you.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

            She then heard the honk of a horn. It was Madison, here to drag her away _because you have to have one more lunch with us before you go!_ and her timing could not have been more frustrating.

            She sighed. “I’m sorry, Takashi-senpai, I have to go. My friends here want me to have lunch before I leave.”

            “Just Takashi, Haruhi. I understand, go have fun. I will see you soon. Safe travels, little one.” She blushed pink at the reprimand and the nickname. He must have been tired.

            “I will, thank you. See you soon! Oh, and one more thing. Please don’t bring the Host Club too. That’s too much excitement for one airport to handle.” She felt a skip of excitement knowing she would actually, finally, see him again.

            “Aah.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “See you soon.” _Click._

* * *

_I’m sick of deciding_

_How it burns inside of me_

            Takashi had something important to do.

            It was 9:00am, and Haruhi would be arriving in 23 hours and 40 minutes. He, after waking up obscenely early and pounding out a morning kendo session, had showered and was now folded into seiza, meditating while his hair air-dried. _Important to do._ Erupting out of his practiced pose with a fluidity born of a lifetime of training, he whipped out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t expected to ever need. The phone rang once, twice, then clicked on.

            “Goooood morning! Ranka speaking!”

            “Good morning Ranka-san.”

            “Morinozuka-san, what a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you today?”

            “I apologize for the short notice, but I wanted to speak with you about an important matter, if you have time today.”

            He knew Ranka-san would  put two-and-two together quickly; Haruhi didn’t obtain all of her impressive brainpower from her mother. Haruhi would be arriving tomorrow, and the only reason Takashi would call would be about her. He could sense the man’s happy glow from across town. “Of course Mori-san, please join me for lunch at noon then!”

            “Thank you, Ranka-san."

            “Not a problem, see you soon~!”

            “Aah.” _Click._

            Mori stood holding the phone in his large hand, long fingers curling around the small device which now showed a background of Haruhi and the himself at the ball. Someone had taken a picture of the two while he whirled her around, and he had stolen it off Kyoya’s computer when the academic was off yelling at the twins one day. He had set it as his phone background to remind himself that she was real, she had held his hand and danced with him and she _would be back_ , a thought he had to fight to believe on his loneliest nights. He stared longingly at the curve of her smile, then eyed the time, suddenly restless. His eyes slid to the upper corner of the device.

            The time read 9:04am.

            Well…his hair was still wet anyway. A few laps in the pool wouldn’t hurt…

* * *

             “Well, Morinozuka-san, welcome! To what do I owe this meeting?” Takashi sat across from Haruhi’s father, the man’s long hair curled and pinned. Both were dressed rather nicely for an indoor meeting, but both men were too tactful to point this out.

            “Ranka-san, I came here to ask for your permission and blessing to court your daughter.”

            “Maa, Morinozuka-san, you’re the man occupying my daughter’s heart this year, ne? She won’t tell me why she’s acting all gooey since she’s been gone. I thought it might be an American boy, but she wouldn’t tell me the name. She said she didn’t want to jinx it, how silly!” Takashi was quiet as Ranka laughed and continued prattling about his shy and studious child. _She was quiet for the same reason as you_ his mind whispered. The thought pleased him immensely.

            “Yes, sir. We have been speaking throughout this year on the phone and by email.” He put in, quieting the older man.

            Ranka ran his finger around the edge of his teacup, a long nail making a soft _scraaaape_ along the ceramic. “Mori-san.”

            “Yes, Ranka-san?”

            A pause.

            “You know my daughter is precious to me. Why should I give her to you?” There was no animosity in the question, he knew, Ranka merely wanted to know the depth of the younger man’s feelings for her. Ranka stood to close the window in the kitchen, and Takashi moved around the table and kneeled back down.

            When Ranka turned back, he found the taller, dark-eyed boy in a full formal prostration. He stood in front of the kneeling boy as Takashi began to speak.

            “Ranka-san, your daughter…means the world to me. She is my first thought in the morning and last at night. Her happiness brings light to my life. I am… completely… in love with her.” His voice was slow, gravelly with the sudden emotions in his chest. God, he loved her.

            He felt a hand on his shoulder and took that as his cue to lift his head off the floor and return to his seated stance. Ranka-san smiled at him.

“Call me Otousan, Morinozuka-san.”

            If Takashi hadn’t felt like he could run a marathon before, he sure did now.

* * *

_But your face lit up in the moonlight_

_When we both set fire to the skyline_

 

            Haruhi was _tired_. Planes were noisy, and uncomfortable, and _crowded_ , and she was sick of lugging her suitcase and duffel and backpack and purse and everything else through endless tiled hallways. Plus, they were constantly _noisy_. Intercoms crackled to life every 5 minutes, and that coupled with clacking heels and men loudly holding calls in waiting areas meant that Haruhi was cranky. She dragged her suitcase across the terminal to the escalator that would take her to baggage claim. At least she was done with planes for now. Hopefully, she’d be done with planes _forever_.

            The only thing keeping her from laying on the floor and going right to sleep was the idea that _Takashi is here_ , that _Takashi is in the building_ and in less than five minutes she’d be able to see his stormy eyes and broad shoulders again. “I’m ridiculous…” she murmured to herself as her pace quickened towards the escalator, now in sight. There was just no stopping the love bug, and she’d caught it bad. She thought back to her friends calling her a lovesick puppy; she’d denied it, but the evidence became clearer the closer she got to Takashi. As she considered this, she stepped onto the escalator.

Down, down, down. Amidst a crowd of people on the narrow escalator and unable to see, Haruhi felt as though time slowed to a crawl. She just wanted to get to Takashi and get out of here, for goodness sakes!

Down, down, down. Finally.

Haruhi stepped off the infernal moving stairs and carefully dragged her luggage away from the crowd so she could get a clear view. She searched the baggage claims. In typical fashion, the one for her plane was the furthest away. She sighed and started walking, searching for the face she desperately craved. After another fifty meters of walking, she found him.

There he was, ridiculously tall and unfairly gorgeous. She couldn’t help but drink in every detail. He was standing facing the side, hair slightly tousled from the winter wind outside. Takashi never failed to cut an imposing profile, but it was obvious he’d dressed to put every other man in the baggage claim to shame. A navy sweater over a white blouse, slim jeans and boots that probably cost thousands, with a scarf slung carelessly around his neck; he looked like a model. Haruhi suddenly remembered her own shoddy travel attire (a sweatshirt, leggings, and slip on shoes) and blanched, nearly tripping over her own feet with a sudden rush of embarrassment. How odd, she rarely ever felt self-conscious about her attire. He’d been staring at his phone, but after her musing finished he looked up towards her and their eyes met. She watched as his whole face subtly transformed; lines disappeared from his forehead and his eyes lit up. Even his lips turned up just slightly at the corners, a perfect replica of the smile in the tea room years ago which first stirred her heart. Now, she felt her heart stutter, then thunder to life in her chest. A smile spread across her face.

She was home.

* * *

_I was only falling in love_

 

She was here.

Takashi looked up from the small device holding their picture, and there she was, in the flesh, tiny and wide-eyed and dressed in exactly what he expected her to be. Her hair was a little longer, more of a bob than a boy’s cut. It suited her, he thought to himself as he took in the simple reality that she was _here._

He’d been waiting nearly a half-hour, he’d gotten here in a rush due to nerves and had been exercising all his patience to remain dignified and still. When she smiled, his endless reserves of discipline dried up. He spun on his heel and strode to meet her, long legs racing to cover the distance. She started walking faster, then nearly jogging, then he watched in near amazement as she dropped her bags and _ran_ towards him. Haruhi, the infamously lazy Host, _running to him_ , arms out, reaching. He slowed, bent to her level, and opened his arms to receive her, and there she was, slamming into him, leaving a slight rush of air in her wake that smelled faintly of cherry blossoms. 

It was a bit unorthodox in Japanese culture, and his years of training screamed at him for the impropriety, but he straightened, lifting her straight off the ground and holding her tight. A thousand pounds melted off his shoulders in moments. Was it possible for a single person to have this much effect on his heart and soul? It didn’t seem remotely sensible, yet here he was, wrapped around her slim fingers. He carefully set her down again, and partially released her, settling for leaving his large hands on her delicate shoulders and bending to her level once more. He watched as her own hand came to wrap around his wrist. Her eyes glittered.

“H-” Her voice cracked. She tried again. “Hello, Takashi.”

“Welcome home.” He replied. At his tones, a tear spilled out onto her blushing face.  He wiped it away with a finger. “No tears, Haruhi.”

“I’m sorry, I just…I’m happy to see you!” She replied, a watery laugh following. He smiled at her.

“I’m happy to see you as well.”

She suddenly looked around. “My luggage—” He stood, departing her to retrieve her bags, bringing them back to her. “Thank you, Takashi.”

They walked over to the baggage claim together, where he picked up her enormous battered suitcase like it was a feather, and escorted her towards his car. On the way, she told him about her trip, the ridiculous tourists, the beautiful landscapes, and the pains of economy travel. He listened, content just to be near her, but burning with the question he needed to ask her. He thought back to Ranka-otousan telling him _please take care of my daughter_ , and he blushed all over again. After placing her luggage in the trunk, he walked back around to the passenger door and took her hands in his own, kneeling in front of her. She stared, shocked.

“Haruhi, I need to ask you something.”

“A-anything, go ahead?” He heard a note of confusion in her voice. He paused, gathering his thoughts, and began what would be a speech for him.

“I’ve missed you intensely this last year. It has made me realise the depth of my feelings for you and what my intentions are. Please, tell me if you are not comfortable with this, but I would like to officially court you, if you are willing.” He paused, suddenly, irrationally afraid of her response.

She was wide-eyed and silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Are you sure? I’m just…me. And you’re Takashi Morinozuka, you could be with anyone…” Her response was so ludicrous he nearly laughed aloud. Instead, he smiled and squeezed her hands.

“I would only like to be with you, if you’d have me.” He said, just loud enough for her to hear. The cool air swept through her hair. She smiled again.

 “How could I ever say no to the person I love?”

 In that moment, his heart stopped and his lungs malfunctioned. _The person I love._ She said she loved him. _She loved him._ His lungs cleared. “You love me?”

 She tilted her head. “Takashi, I’ve loved you a long time. I’ve just kept it to myself. I was afraid you did not feel the same.”

 He knew exactly how to respond to that. “Haruhi, I love you. I have loved you for most of the time I have known you, and hid my own feelings for the same reason. 

She laughed at him. “Well, looks like we are both too quiet for our own good then.”

“Aah.”

He reached out and gently took her chin in his large hand, drawing her in. _One last impropriety for today,_ he thought to himself and he leaned in slowly, her breath (minty, she must have had chewing gum recently) fanning across his face. Her lashes fluttered, closed, as he brushed his lips across hers, once, twice, then sealing to hers in a soft kiss. Her lips, inexperienced but softer than anything he’d ever touched, were warm on his own. Her hands found his sweater and held on tight. His own arms slid around her waist, resting carefully so that he not accidentally touch her more than she may care for. Her lips moved with his, and he swore he could have flown away. Then the moment was over, and he withdrew carefully, pressing his lips to her forehead before standing and opening the passenger door for her. She smiled at him one last time and stepped into the car.

And a moment later, he started the engine and pulled out of the lot, her small hand enclosed in his own, as they drove towards her home, and the future they dreamed of, together.

 

_Fin._

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Wew! That was a whole mess, and I’m not sorry. Some parts are better than others, that I’m sure, but as a whole I hope you readers enjoy it! 
> 
> If you haven’t figured it out by now, this author has a lot of experience with long distance. Personally, I think it’s a really interesting topic to explore and I’ve only really seen it in action once or twice in my 7-8 years reading on various fanfic sites. Figured I would try and tackle it.
> 
> Also ffFFFFFFF I've never posted on AO3 and the editor keeps ruining my formatting, but only for the last section. TF? Idk. If I figure out how to fix it I will, but until then accept my sad apologies.
> 
> Please drop me a review and let me know what you think! Cheers <3


End file.
